Haunted By Heroes
by IAmJohnLocked4Life
Summary: Post-Reichenbach possible spoilers. John is being haunted by heroes of his past and he joins the war to escape them. But heroes like that don't leave you, and war can create new heroes to haunt you. JOHNLOCK. All war characters are mine.
1. Chapter 1

I don't know why I went back. It didn't make sense why I was back in the combat zone. Sherlock would say that it made sense, but he wasn't here anymore. Not after that day. I don't know why I ever returned to 221B Baker Street after that day. After I watched doctors and medics take Sherlock away from me. After I felt no pulse in his body. Only God knew why I went back. I only stayed six months. When I came back after that afternoon, after that fall, I walked into his room, wrapped myself in one of his jackets, cried myself to sleep in his bed. When I woke up, I thought that he was alive but I was dismayed when I found out that I was alone. I knew that he was gone. I left things as they were, not even attempting to pack up some of the items in the flat. My limp, which Sherlock once told me was psychosomatic, had returned. So had the nightmares. However, they weren't about my first tour of duty. They were about Sherlock's death. I would watch as he stood up on the roof and fall, knowing that I couldn't do a thing to save him. He would hit the ground with a sickening thud and I would jolt myself awake, covered in sweat and my heart pounding. There were days on end that I didn't sleep, for fear of the dreams that would haunt me. It was during a long string of sleepless nights that I knew what I must do. My limp and the nightmares had come back because I lost the one person that I depended on. Sherlock was someone I had gone through thick and thin with. I knew the only solution. Before I left, I slid a note under Mrs. Hudson's door.

_I have decided to go back into the army. I need a distraction and this is the only way that I know how. I can't spend anymore time in London right now. Everywhere I go, I think of him. I haven't even left the flat in six months, in fear that his memory will swallow me whole. His death haunts me in every waking moment of my life. I plan on returning after my nine month tour. I know that you may not approve, but I feel as if I have no other choice. Thank you for all you have done these many years. - John Watson._With that note, I left 221B Baker Street behind me. I had made sure to leave time for me to do one last thing before my flight. When I arrived at my destination I stood under the shade of a tree, looking down at an elegant black headstone. "Sherlock, it will be awhile before we speak like this again." I began. "I have to fill this void that you left behind. I need to be distracted. I've gone back to the army. Before I leave, I have to ask one thing. Just one favor. While I'm gone, please make one more miracle happen for me. Don't be dead." I stood in silence for a few seconds before saluting his marker and turning away. I was going off to war.


	2. Chapter 2

My squad knew something was wrong. I was with the same group of guys as my last tour, and because of my military reputation, they put me back in charge. I had told my squad, before I left the last tour that I wouldn't be coming back. I didn't want to be a career soldier. When I arrived to the base, almost ten hours after leaving 221B, the General led me directly to my barrack. He called them to attention before I entered.

"At ease, gentlemen." I said as I stepped into the barrack, smiling.

That was the first time I smiled since Moriarty simultaneously broke into the bank, the prison, and attempted to steal the crown jewels.

"Thank you, General." I said as I turned around to address a man that was no longer there.

"He does that alot." Greg "The Hound" Ravensdale informed me.

_Just like Sherlock_ "Yeah, I bet."Then my squad came forward, giving me a warm welcome back. My best war mate came forward and wrapped me in a large, manly hug. "We were told that someone was coming to join us. Didn't expect it to be you." "Yeah, blissful ignorance. You didn't want to think about it because you know that I would make your life hell again, Carlyle." I looked around at my squad. "Who needs a bunk mate?" "Carlyle." Everyone responded. "What is it about you, Carlyle, that won't let you keep a bunk mate?" "Whatever it is, it's the same reason he can't get any." The hound joked. "Yeah, well your mother enjoyed it the other night." Carlyle other boys exploded in laughter at the expense of The Hound, who had turned bright red. "Why you back here in this shithole, Watson?" 2nd LT. Bryan "Psyco" Lecky questioned. "Got bored of Civie life." "So this is how you stave off boredom? Maybe we should call you psyco instead." Carlyle commented. "Yeah, at least I was eating better food than you." I fired bell rang, signaling time to eat. We all made our way toward the mess hall. Carlyle approached me on the way over. "So why are you really back?" He asked. "I told you, I got bored." "That's rubbish and we both know it. Those letters you sent me made me think that you enjoyed Civie life. At one point, I asked if you ever thought of coming back. You wouldn't though because you told me that you have a new life. That too many people depended on you."We entered the hall and dropped our voices a little.

"I needed a change of scenery."

"Then Jesus, John. Go to Scotland or America. Don't come back to war. What'd your flatmate say when you told him. What'd you say his name was...Sherlock Holmes? I thought you guys were solving crimes together, or something."

I had stopped listening to him when he said Sherlock

"John, Are you listening?"

"What, yeah. Sorry to tell you but Sherlock is gone."

"What do you mean gone?"

"Dead."

It was silent between the two of them as they got their food.

"I'm sorry, John."

"It's fine."

We went to rejoin the rest of our squad.

"How's the shoulder, Watson?" Psyco asked.

"It's good. Don't think that I can't still beat you in any sport you play. I may have been shot but I can still outdo you."

My return to the combat zone could be deemed successful. My squad received me warmly. That night when we went to bed, I didn't fear the dreams that would come because they never came.


	3. Chapter 3

By now I had spent five months in Kandahar and it was quiet. Kandahar is one of the most violent war zones in the war. More people die there than anywhere else in the war. Within our time in Kandahar, we had only received fire once during a patrol. Within my time here, I also had realized that I had not been thinking about Sherlock. When I was thinking about him, it began not to hurt as much. The nightmares had stopped and I slowly began to return to normal. Or as normal as I could be in Kandahar. I began to feel guilty about not thinking about Sherlock and that I was beginning to return to normal. I felt like I was betraying his memory, even though I knew that Sherlock would want me to move on. I had to stop thinking about him right now. Being distracted during a patrol could be deadly. Hound was driving the Humvee, with a private next to him. Myself and Carlyle were sitting in the back seat with Psyco manning the gun. "Keep your eyes open, boys. We're approaching the RZ." I remindedRZ. The red zone. the one place where the most of our soldiers were killed. As I spoke, I turned the safety off of my weapon. I could see the others doing the same. The patrol through the RZ should take twenty minutes. I kept looking at my watch, watching time slowly creep away. Eighteen minutes into it and nothing had happened. That was all about to change. The humvee that was leading our convoy exploded into flames. It had hit an IED. We could hear gunfire come from everywhere. My men jumped into action. Psyco took out six guys who were on the roofs at our three and nine. As the private and I jumped out of the humvee, I could hear screams for backup come over the radio. We saw no insurgents on the street, so we rejoined Carlyle and The Hound on the other side of the Humvee. There was a small explosion followed by another, larger explosion. My squad went sailing through the air as our Humvee exploded, killing Psyco. I crashed into the ground with a thud, my head impacting first. I was dizzy but I had to ignore it, because I could hear screams of pain come from a member of my squad. "Cover me!" I shouted to Carlyle as I ran toward The Hound had shrapnel protruding from his upper right quad. He was bleeding profusely. "Hold on, soldier." I told him, pulling medical supplies out and placing pressure on the wound. I had to get a tourniquet on it or the man was going to die. I had gotten there too late. The shrapnel had hit his femoral artery. He bled out in minutes, dead. The second dead in our squad and there was nothing I could do for either of them. Just like I could do nothing to save Sherlock. Carlyle grabbed me from behind, pulling me into cover after grabbing The Hound's gun and ammo. "There nothing you can do for them. You need to survive." He shouted to up arrived fifteen minutes later, but the gunfire had stopped by then. I don't know why it stopped, it just did. All of squad one had been killed. Squad two, my squad, had lost two. Squad three had one dead and two wounded. We got shipped back to base for debriefing. The ride back was a blur. My body was still pounding with adrenaline and I knew that two of my friends were dead. Back at base, each of us got quarantined to a room. That was when the full impact of what happened hit me. I had time to think and the situation quickly enveloped me. At first, I was angry. I flung chairs and the table that occupied the room. Then remorse hit me like a wave. Three people died and I could do nothing to help them. Two in war and one back in reality. Pscyo, The Hound, and Sherlock. The thought of Sherlock transported me back to that day. I had many of those and being in war was my way to escape them. They just seemed to follow me. I flashed back to that day. _"John." "Sherlock, you okay?" I began to walk out of my cab. "Turn around and walk back the way you came from." "No, I'm coming in." I began to run toward the hospital. "Just do as I ask, please." "Where?" I began to walk back toward the way I had come. "Stop there." "Sherlock." He was starting to scare me. Why was he acting so strange? "Look up, I'm on the rooftop." "Oh god." I gasped as I turned to face St. Barts hospital. "I can't come down, so...we'll just have to do it like this." "What going on?" Fear began to claw at my chest. "An apology. It's all true." "What?" "Everything they said about me." Sherlock paused to take a breath. "I invented Moriarty." "Why are you saying this?" This could not be real. I had fought Moriarty with Sherlock. I had been taken hostage by the man. "I'm a fake." "Sherlock." No this could not be true. I would not believe it. "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. Tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."_ _"Okay, Sherlock...Sherlock, shut up. The first time that we met, the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" "Nobody could be that clever." "You could."Then Sherlock gave a small laugh. "I researched you. Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick, just a magic trick." "No, alright stop it now."I began to move. I had to go get Sherlock off of that roof. "No, stay exactly where you are, don't move."I stopped and went back, placing my free arm up. It was like I was back at war, trying to diffuse a hostage situation. "Alright." "Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please will you do this for me?"That was the second time that he begged to me. I have never heard him beg like that. "Do what?" I questioned. "This phone call, it's ahh... It's my note. It's what people do, don't they? leave a note." "Leave a note when?"He was scaring me. I knew exactly when people left a note. "Goodbye, John." "No don't!"Sherlock dropped the phone and I pulled mine away from my ear. "Sherlock!" I was then that he fell forward, taking his own life. "Sherlock." I whispered in astonishment._I didn't notice that Carlyle had entered the room at the request of some higher ups. He had heard the entire side of my conversation, apparently I had been speaking out loud, and he knew what I was flashing back to. Because of that little episode, I was honorably discharged on account of PTSD. Carlyle was sent back home with me. On the plane ride home, many people came up to us and thanked us for our service. All I could do was nod kindly. I didn't speak, afraid that my voice would betray me, showing these people the emotional damage I was experiencing. I was being haunted by heroes. Their faces flashed in my mind throughout the plane ride. Their faces haunted me. They were the faces of people who died to save others. I couldn't help being haunted by heroes.


	4. Chapter 4

I wondered what people would say when I returned home early. I knew they would question what happened, but I wouldn't be able to tell them. I couldn't find a story to tell them and I most certainly couldn't tell them the truth. It didn't matter right now. I would figure out something later. The entire plane ride, I was on alert. I was jumpy. Carlyle told me multiple times to calm down, but I just couldn't. I was on the edge.

We got off the five hour flight and I walked Carlyle to his connecting flight. We parted ways at the gate, promising to keep in touch with each other. I turned around and made my way toward baggage claim after his plane took off. Even though I didn't have any check bags, I knew that the taxis would be there. While I was waiting for Carlyle's plane to take off, I began to get a strange feeling. I could have sworn that I had seen someone familiar while I was waiting, but no one knew that I was home early. The walk toward baggage claim was unnerving. I felt like someone was watching me. I stopped on my way there and turned around, looking to see if anyone was watching me. No one was. Once again, I saw that familiar guy who was by the gate.

He looked like Sherlock, but I knew that wasn't right. Sherlock was dead. I was haunted by heroes. I continued my walk toward baggage claim and was about to head for the nearest door.

"John." I heard a familiar voice call.

A man came walking toward me. I was about to say Mycroft, but it wasn't him. I didn't even get a chance to say the name because he wrapped me in a large hug. When he let me go, I was finally able to analyze the situation. "Sherlock?" I said in surprise. "Yeah John. It's me." he acknowledged tentatively. Was he expecting me to kill him or something? Had I not gone off to war and had not been wanting to see him, I might have. "What...How?" I stammered, still not believing that this man was standing in front of me. "You were dead. I saw you fall off the roof. I watched you hit the ground." "You saw but did not observe. I am a man with high functioning mental capacity. Do you not think that, if I wanted to, I would be able to stop my heart for a few seconds." "But the blood?" "Blood is easy to obtain and no one tested it." "Why pretend that you were dead?" "John, when I first met you, I knew there was something special about you. Over those first few cases, you became more than a flatmate to me. You became a friend, and my best friend at that. When I saw that Moriarty had strapped you to a bomb, my heart fell out of my chest. I couldn't imagine a life where you were a part of it. I stayed up nights afterwards, making sure that you were alive. That night, Moriarty said that he would burn my heart out. He almost did on the roof of St. Barts. He threatened to kill Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and more importantly you. I jumped to save your life. I knew I didn't have to, but then Jim shot himself and I had no choice. I had to pretend that I had killed myself." "I did it to save you. I did it because I love you. You are my heart and I couldn't allow Moriarty kill you. Since St. Barts, I've been hunting down the gunmen who were going to kill you. That's the only reason that I could come back. I had to make sure that you were safe. When I went back to Baker Street, told me that you had gone back to war. I called my brother and he told me that you were coming home early. I did everything because I love you. I couldn't stand being away from you and I'm sorry for any grief that I have caused you." Sherlock put a hand in his pocket. "I have to ask a question. This is something that I have wanted to ask you for a while, but I never had the courage to ask you. Do you love me?" "Sherlock, Do you remember back at the pool? When I grabbed Moriarty and then let him go because you were being threatened? You are an observant man. What do you deduce?"

Sherlock didn't answer me. He just shook his head and pulled his hand out of his pocket. In his hand was a small, black velvet box.

"John Watson, I love you and I want to know, will you marry me?" Sherlock asked.

He opened the box and there were two men's wedding bands. That was not what I had expected. I grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders and pulled him close to me, planting a kiss on his lips. At that moment, nothing mattered. It didn't matter that I had come back from war. It didn't matter how much grief Sherlock caused me. It didn't matter that we were kissing openly in a public place. I had Sherlock and that was all that mattered.

When we stopped kissing, I leaned back with a smile on my face.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Sherlock said in a questioning tone of voice.

"Of course." I responded.

He put a ring on my finger and I put one on his before we grabbed a taxi back to 221B. "Thank you Sherlock." I said as we drove away from the airport. "For what?" "This is great and all. I do love you and I will spend the rest of my life with you. There was something that I wanted and you did just as I asked. You performed a miracle" "And what miracle would that be?" He asked. "I asked for you not to be dead. I'm thankful that you are alive. I love you Sherlock." "I love you too, John."Our fingers intertwined on the seat in between us. At that point, I knew that everything would be okay. I had been on the edge during the plane ride because I was afraid of what the future held. I wasn't afraid anymore. I was with Sherlock. Before I had met him, I was being haunted by heroes. They stopped haunting me when I was with Sherlock. It came back when he was gone from my life. Now I was being haunted by one less hero, and therefore, haunted by none. I was going to be with Sherlock for the rest of my life. I was going to be okay because I was with Sherlock. The war was behind me. I would grieve for Psyco and Hound for a few days, maybe a week at most. I knew there was nothing that I could do to save them. I no longer felt responsible for their deaths.

Today, I couldn't have been better. This was the best I had felt in eleven months. My friend, no my hero, was back with me. We were going to be together for the rest of our lives. What more could I ask for?


End file.
